


so you took your place (but the fall from grace was the hardest part)

by cerealmilk



Series: there's blood in the water [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Autistic Character, Entirely Self-Indulgent, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, i have no explanation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 07:51:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10532115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerealmilk/pseuds/cerealmilk
Summary: She dreamt of metal. The sky was ablaze with fire, smoke billowing upwards in thick, charcoal pillars.Hana knew she was dreaming. Logically, sheknew,but that didn't make it any less terrifying. It didn't make it less real.Or, Hana's PTSD won't go down without a fight.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Instead of getting an update y'all get a Blood in the Water spinoff, some time after Young Never Sleep.
> 
> Highkey vent write because my spring break wasn't all that great and my birthday was somehow worse bc when you haven't come out as agender to half your relatives you know it's gonna end well.
> 
> Title is from Miss Atomic Bomb by the Killers.
> 
> Enjoy.

She dreamt of metal. The sky was ablaze with red tongues of fire, hungry and infernal as they consumed the world around her.

Smoke billowed upwards in thick, charcoal pillars. Her hands jolted with every minute movement of her fusion cannons, her ears filled with the hoarse screech of tearing metal as it shredded beneath her luminescent ammunition. Her comm was buzzing with white noise— incomprehensible gibberish that was loud and overwhelming. Everything she saw was a nauseating blur of red and black and green.

(Hana knew she was dreaming. Logically, she _knew,_ but that didn't make it any less terrifying. It didn't make it less real.)

Her mouth tasted like ash. The ground beneath her sloshed and shifted, the hot liquid black like tar. Heat crawled down her neck from her eyes— she couldn't breathe, not with the amount of smoke in the air.

She was moving forward, the legs of her mech soldiering through the thick, black substance underfoot. The metal tore with an agonized scream, the white noise flaring, flickering, clearing only slightly, voices muffled beyond the static.

_"D.Va, you are now authorized to use violence to tame the Omnic insurgents."_

"No," she replied, but she kept moving, kept shooting in the darkness, eyes bright with fire. She couldn't hear herself over the noise— the screeching metal, the deafening static, the sloshing tar that had risen up to her mid-thigh.

_"D.Va, open fire."_

"Stop," she breathed, eyes wide. She willed her legs to stop, willed her hands to _let go,_ but her grip was like vice.

_"D.Va, open fire. It's easy— they're just machines. Don't tell me you actually feel for the fuckers. They destroyed your homeland, remember?"_

"Don't do this," she whimpered. The earth shuddered beneath her, tremors wracking her mech violently like those horribly familiar footsteps, footsteps that cracked the earth and decimated Busan, but she kept going. Everything was on fire, and the tar kept rising, black and thick and _burning._

_"Just shoot the damn things. Or are you too scared?"_

"I can't," she sobbed. Guilt bled from her eyes, marking hot trails down her cheeks. "Stop, please. I can't."

_"You have to."_

"I won't. You can't make me."

_"You already have."_

The smoke cleared. The metal in her ears howled, long and sorrowful. Her heart stopped abruptly, and she forced her fingers off the trigger to look at what she'd done.

Underfoot rested MEKA, hundreds of pilots dead by her hand. Kim, Taeyoon, Areum, Il-Seong. Mechs adrift in the tar but she kept walking and it felt like the fire would burn her alive.

_"You killed them."_

"I didn't," she cried. "I didn't do anything! I didn't— I'm— I'm sorry—"

_"Why be sorry? They're just machines. They're expendable. You aren't. You're the only one that matters, D.Va."_

"No, I'm—"

 _"You sacrificed_ so much _for your own glory. Wasn't it worth it? You used_ everyone _you knew to get to the top. Did you get the respect you deserved? Didn't it amount to anything?"_

She froze. Gibraltar flashed in her eyes, images of Soldier: 76 and Mercy and Pharah and all she could hear was 'child, child, child.'

 _"It didn't, did it? Look at what you've done. You gave up_ all this _and it amounted to_ nothing _."_

Her vision swam. The tar was up to her nose, and it poured into her mouth, hot and acidic, oozing into her lungs. Fire surged through her veins, and she fought violently, against it. She needed it out.

_"This is your burden, D.Va. This is what you brought on yourself. This is the price of playing hero. You can't run from your history."_

"Stop!" she screamed, and her voice was so hoarse, so desperate, so strangled as she talked with fire in her teeth. She struggled against the consuming darkness as it overlook her eyes, burning like molten lava on her skin. Her legs thrashed, arms striking out. It was futile. She felt sick.

 _"Stop struggling. Remember what happened last time you tried to fight back? You_ died _."_

Pain surged through her ribcage, bones cracking and splintering as a phantom slab of carbon fiber stabbed through her chest, and she screamed, tar flooding every inch of her, eyes squeezing shut. She couldn't move— why couldn't she move? The darkness was hardening like cement, and her muscles strained against their invisible bonds.

_**"Hana."** _

Something cold like ice brushed against the side of her neck, and her eyes snapped wide open.

 

* * *

 

Hana jerked awake with a strangled gasp, her body shooting upright, one of her hands snatching the cold, metal appendage that had awoken her, the other clutching the front of her shirt— the place beneath which rested the terrible, blackened scar from Kashgar.

For a few seconds, her vision swam, traces of her dream taking their sweet time to face from reality, and only when she could see clearly did she realize where she was.

Satya's room. The hardlight clock on the wall was the giveaway. Her skin was sticky with sweat and her heartbeat was fast and erratic, every ragged breath labored and deep. Her body was shaking, and she felt exhausted, physically and mentally.

"Hana?" Satya called out, voice gentle, but firm. "Are you awake?"

Hana realized how tightly she was gripping the architech's hand and immediately let go, missing the contact as soon as it was gone. Her body shuddered, and she clenched her fists, swallowing hard and barely managing a nod.

"Y-yeah. Yes. I'm awake."

Satya's face was unreadable, her sharp golden gaze searching for something in Hana's expression. Finally, she sighed, reaching out to brush the shorter woman's bangs from her face. Hana tried not to flinch at the touch, because her skin felt like pins and needles, and the ache in her chest was fading, but dispersing throughout her body instead.

"Sorry. I made a mess of your bed," Hana said, glancing at the rumpled sheets she had kicked off.

Satya inspected the mess herself and grimaced slightly before giving a small shrug. "We will just have to wash them sometime this morning. It's all right, Hana. You cannot control what you see in your sleep."

Hana groaned and fell backwards on the bed, digging the heels of her hands into her eyes until it hurt. "Sure, but I wish I could. It'd make everything a ton easier."

There was a moment of silence before Satya hesitantly peeled her hands from her eyes. "Come on," the architech said. "I believe you are in need of some fresh air."

Hana followed her friend obediently, their bare feet pattering against the cold metal floor. The contrast of temperature, in comparison to the hellfire-esque heat of her nightmare, was refreshing.

Satya led them to one of the walkways that looked over both Watchpoint: Gibraltar and the ocean. Hana sat down first, her legs dangling off the edge of the catwalk as she stared out at the great expanse of water before her. The moon sat high in the sky, reflecting off of the waves. It was mesmerizing, in a disconcerting, unsettling sort of way.

(And it was hard, not to imagine that metal head rising from the deep with its great red eye, it's ground-shaking screams, but she managed.)

Satya settled beside her. The architech's body was warm, as it always was— it was comforting.

Hana couldn't help but wonder was an incredulous scene this would be if anyone saw them— the two of them in their sleepwear, legs dangling off of a platform hundreds of feet above the ground in the middle of the night.

The air was cool and crisp, hanging in the air, perfectly still. It was almost absolutely silent, if not for the waves gently crashing against the rocks below.

(The ocean was as hypnotic as it was terrifying. Her fear of water would be a beast to conquer.)

Hana sighed and squeezed her eyes shut, reaching out to grip Satya's hand because she could really use the comfort.

"Thanks for waking me up," she said. "I don't think I could have done it myself."

She opened her eyes just in time to catch a glimpse of the small, fond smile Satya gave her before it fell.

"You would have done the same."

They were both so broken, so beaten and scarred from their pasts— Hana, the world-famous idol torn in two by her family and used so ruthlessly by those who sought her for her fame, who was a murdered by name. (How many? She thought. How many died by her hand?) Hana, who almost lost herself in the fight to gain Overwatch's respect.

Satya, who, until recently, had been living her whole life in a lie, a lie perfectly crafted by Vishkar, a lie that had for so long hidden the true horror of what Satya had dedicated her life to, who was only just beginning to discover how to use her abilities for the better.

The two of them, only learning how to heal. Hana, turning from her destructive methods to things better for her health. Satya, only on the cusp of encroaching this new territory.

"I've killed a lot of people," Hana whispered, squeezing Satya's hand tight. "I've done some pretty bad shit to a lot of people. People I cared about."

The architech squeezed back, her grip equally hard, equally terrified. "So have I, but we can only try to move forward. We cannot take back that which has already been done."

Hana laughed bitterly. "Yeah, I know. I _do._ But it's funny— I've spent my whole life looking backwards, thinking about what I could have done better. It's funny, and hard, moving forward, because every inch of me wants to look back."

Satya quirked a brow. "I think you are doing quite well. If what I recall is correct, you used to be much worse."

Hana placed a hand on her chest in mock offense. "Are you saying I'm not already good? You offend me, Satya."

Satya's face fell and Hana immediately knew her mistake. "No, no, Satya, it's fine, seriously. I was kidding." She takes her hands through her bangs, kicking herself internally for letting such an important thing slip. "I forgot you don't really get sarcasm. My bad. It's seriously okay."

The architech let out a breath. "It is all right."

Hana shook her head. "No, it isn't. Don't undermine whatever bothers you just to make me feel better. You're my equal and my partner, Satya. I don't want you to hurt yourself." She squeezed her hand again, gently. "I'll try harder next time. Sorry."

Satya didn't respond, only nodding minutely and turning back to face the ocean. Hana hesitated, and only when she knew she had been forgiven did she follow suit.

For a long, long time, they sat in the near-silence. It was a comfortable silence. They stayed out long enough for the moon to start to set and for a light, chilly breeze to start tousling her clothes.

Soon enough, the water began to ripple and twist and warp— her stomach roiled at the sight. It was clear that that was enough ocean for one night.

"I'd like to head back inside," she murmured.

Satya nodded, and together they stood, maneuvering back through the moonlit hallways to the architech's room.

"Will you be going back to sleep?" Satya asked as soon as they entered. Hana didn't even need to think before she shook her head.

"No, but you go ahead. I'll just turn something on to watch."

"Very well. Goodnight, Hana." The taller woman was giving her that smile again. Hana tried her best to return it.

"Night, Satya. Sleep well."

Hana grabbed the data pad from the nightstand as Satya climbed back beneath the sheets, browsing through movie titles without really reading them, her brain more focused on her partner's breath, listening to every rhythmic inhale and exhale until it evened out and slowed. When it did, she sighed, the pad falling from her fingers as she pressed her hands to her eyes again.

Quietly, as to not disturb Satya, she slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her and leaning against it.

She felt it in her chest and in the back of her throat but she choked it down, eyes shut tightly once more. She remembered what Zenyatta had taught her about breathing— in three seconds, out for eight seconds. In, and out. In, and out. So she followed.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

It was just another day. The sun would rise soon, and she would put on her flight suit and she would fight for Overwatch, _with_ Overwatch, and she would bleed and get hurt because she wasn't impenetrable. And at the end of the day, she would have killed, but it would be for a worthy cause and that made it justified, right?

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

It was just another day. The sun would rise soon. But for now, in the still darkness of the bathroom, she breathed.

**Author's Note:**

> At this point I've done so much research on PTSD I could probably write an 85k word fic on it
> 
> Oh wait
> 
> Anyways, there will be more spinoffs like these when I need a break from writing the main three stories. This was only the first.
> 
> Also to 90% of the people that comment, I see you. I read every single comment. They're great and I love them and I love you but due to my inadequate social skills and general fear of interaction + natural-born awkwardness I just... don't reply. I can't. But I see you. Y'all are great.
> 
> \- Ace.


End file.
